Gambler's Fallacy
by WillowFear
Summary: Why couldn't refuse? Matt didn't believe in happy endings, without Mihael Keehl, he didn't have anyone either (originally in polish by kancchan) [HIATUS ALERT] I am very sorry for the delay, I am kinda distracted right now and it takes me too much time settting things out. Nonetheless, I will try resuming the translation in upcoming year (2018 ). Peace out!
1. Chapter 1: Lonely

**Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note**

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The cold rain was stroking his face, when he went outside surrounded by grey smoke. He shivered with cold, putting his hands into his pockets. The slight drizzle transformed into heavy droplets, as it started to pour. It rained cats and dogs.

The dark side of autumn was showing its face, and all he wished for was a warm, cozy bed and a cup of hot tea before sleep.

 _Matt shifted slightly, feeling something bump his head and fell soundlessly on the floor. He lifted the corner of his mouth , when he saw Mello's soft glance._

⁃ _What? - he growled dissatisfied_

⁃ _Come here – purred Mello, moving a little and lifting the corner of the cover up._

⁃ _Pff – he snorted – I don't want to end on the floor._

⁃ _Don't be a fool, we won't be sleeping - smirked Mello_

Before Matt's eyes was infinite darkness, it was like he'd been blindfolded. He walked from memory, to spite the darkness. The night was starless, the milky white glow of the moon trying to penetrate between the clouds unsuccessfully.

The cold rain covered his cheeks, torturing them with even more hard raindrops. He was soaked to the bone, the wet clothes weighed on him, his red hair falling into his eyes, causing streams of water to flow down on his face.

He made his was through the people on the street around him, ignoring their comments, at once jostling them and being jostled. He clenched his fists, tried to control the tears welling up in his eyes.

 _He rested his face on his elbows to see calm, sleepy Mello's face. Golden strands were scattered on the pillow, shiny with colorful reflections, as if by young light shining through a narrow window. A smile wandered across Mellow's slightly parted lips and Matt's heartbeat fastened._

⁃ _Shh... - he hissed to himself to calm down. He didn't want to wake Mello up either, or listen to him howling from early morning._

 _Mello murmured something incomprehensible and turned onto his right side, showing his blushed cheek. Matt, maybe due to boredom, maybe guided by a specific father instinct, started to hum a random melody that wandered through his mind._

⁃ _Stop, you're so off-key. – Mello whispered softly. Matt felt warm breath on his neck and the first greedy kiss of today. - Since when is drunken babble a lullaby? – he looked at Mellow intrigued and reached blindly under the bed. Paper rustled, as he broke off a piece of chocolate and shoved it into his mouth with the enthusiasm of a five-year-old child._

⁃ _Aren't you over doing it a bit? Trying to kill your worries with candy? How...childlish. - Matt giggled. He received a tender nudge soon enough._

 _Mello untangled himself from the damp bedding and got up of bed. He glanced on Matt._

⁃ _I'm overdoing it? - Mello asked, crossing hands on his chest and stomping his foot in a remarkably childishly fashion. - I cant breath here, darling – he said and covered his face with his hand to make his point. - Open the window, or we will choke to death. - he said as he walked towards the bathroom._

⁃ _Stop whining – Matt rose with a silent sigh and put a cigarette in his mouth._

A colorful wave of umbrellas hindered Matt's view, but he didn't care of it. He was still wandering, avoiding charms of city nightlife. He had a feeling that all the streets formed a special maze that had no end. Countless times he passed same grey building, the same lamp and still same cat digging through the trash.

No!

He knew this place by heart – whenever he walked this way, everything took a simple scheme like in a kaleidoscope. He lost the scheme by the next crossing.

He went to a public bathroom. He didn't want to go to the empty flat - not now. He twisted the cold water on and put his head under the sink, closing his eyes.

 _Matt stormed into the room and without a word dove onto the bed, plunging his face into the pillow. He smiled softly, feeling Mello's scent everywhere._

⁃ _Matt? - Mello put down his pen and leaned back on his chair. He intently listened to the shallow breaths of his friend and betting that Matt had ran for a long distance._

⁃ _What...? - Matt gave him an intrigued glance. He licked blood from his lips with the tip of his tongue._

⁃ _Who cut your lip? - the sigh was stolen by a smooth kiss._

He gazed at his reflection in a mirror. Same face. Same glance. Same night.

He puffed on a cigarette and plunged look into gray smoke floating in the air, making a vanguard mosaic.

He snorted under his breath like a furious cat. He couldn't even remember Mello's face... it was so smooth and a bit feminine. His azure eyes, piercing everything around, and... And...

All the thoughts, which constructed from those blurry memories the image of Mello, fell apart like a house of cards. He reached into his pocket and pressed the green button, pulled the phone to his ear without even looking at the display.

⁃ Hi. I've blown up a building and there is high possibility that I'm the one alive. I cannot move, and it seems that the walls might collapse anytime. Could you...?

 _No, bloody hell, I couldn't!_ he thought, annoyed, continuing is sentence, despite of himself. The characteristic Russian accent was unique, that he could recognize it even at the edge of the world.

⁃ Give me a sec. I'll be there.

He smiled crookedly. He already knew that he'd never forget the sound of Mello's voice for the rest of his life.

Four years of long, painful waiting, expectantly for any graciously contact. Even maniacally deleting his phone number wasn't a solution – Matt knew it by heart. It was just a matter of time, until his fingers would dial those digits again, and for the hundredth time he would try to get a hold of him. But he couldn't force Mello to answer.

Finally he got what he was waiting for - Matt is supposed to pick up his friend, or what actually what was left of him, from mafia shelter. Excellent.

Why couldn't refuse?

Matt didn't believe in happy endings, but only five minutes were enough for Mello to be on his way to the airport.

Honestly, without Mihael Keehl, he didn't have anyone either.


	2. Chapter 2: Fear

Chapter 2

Disclaimer: I do not own Death Note. Suprisingly so, I do own nothing from the whole story, too.

Simply enjoy.

Mello had no clue where was he going. He just walked, carefully moving straight in a narrow tunnel. He felt mustiness and midlew around. The entrance in front of him was so tight that it didn't let any light through. Just in time for someone with his posture. He was feeling safer In these darkness, flowing from everywhere.

He slipped into a tiny space between stone wall and enormous hatchway and went to another room. The stabbing pain he experienced couldnt dissuade him from escaping this delapidated building. Crimson red liquid ran down his chin, stained leather clothes profusely. Wound was too deep for blood to solidify and stop bleeding.

Mello chewed on his lip to drow out unchecked pain moan, which was wading through his throat systematically. He regret not being prepared for this circumstances and he didn't have thrombins nor painkillers. There must be some way to stop the bleeding... This breath was shallow, ragged. He moved even more, feeling stronger dizziness. It was like a ride on the Ferris wheel.

His legs bowed suddenly.

Frantically thinking about possible solutions, but there was nothing he could do. He was feeling a hard nausea from blood loss. Moreover, the whole building was tottering like drunk and could run down in every second, taking Mello to the further depths of hell.

The electricity was gone. Now he was walking a bit blind, considering he had studied the plan of the building in case of quick evacuation. Unfortunately, the emergency exit was two floors below. He calculated his chances to reach them were close to zero. He was far from curious murmurs and punishing glare of the idle moron, Near, icy cold water ran down stone walls, tearing his bloody and yet unhealed wound on this left cheek. Under the influence of the detontion the tube system must have broken down.

He shuddered. He had a feeling, that eternity passed since he have last seen the bright dawn. In his mind there wasn't even Matt's voice, that few minutes age put hope in his heart.

It seemed that he would lose the moving ability. Could he count on sleep? He would curl up somewhere, wrapped in stench of corpses and blood to rest in peace forever.

Eventually, spasms of unrestrained pain can pass through the body, through every living cell. Death.

Mello leaned his hands on the wall, ripping off skin of his hands' and wrists'. He wasn't prepared to die. There was still a chance that Matt, filled with mercy, would release him.

 _Ave Maria, gratia plena,  
Dominus tecum; benedicta ti in mulieribus,  
et benedictus fructus ventris tiu, Iesus. _

He had never been in such a grotesque situation. He moved his bloody grimy fingers on beads of the rosary with agility and accuracy which wouldn't be ashamed to even devout Catholic.

His legs refused allegiance. He leaned on cold, dusty wall and slipped down. He was one foot in the grave. Only vision of Matt coming kept him alive. He will draw him out of this ruins of Mafia shelter that he blew up in the name of excessive optimism.

 _The hell!_ , he thought. _Matt could consider it a joke as well._

 _Sancta Maria, Mater Dei,  
ora pro nobis peccatoribus,  
nunc et in hora mortis nostrae.  
Amen. _

When it rains,it pours, and Mello was exactly like that. He repeated „Sancta Maria" in Latin like the manthra, not because he count on eternal life and the remission of sins, but for the very essence of killing time. Highly bored, he listened to screams of his mates, sounded like whore's moans on the red light alley.

His eyelids were falling down. He tried to move his fae muscles as quickly as possible. Even at this moment, he thought frantically, one, two or three minutes.

However, he had a feeling like the moment transforms into eternity. He was sleepy, could't even restrain from yawning. He had to pay dearly for such frivolous temptation. Scream tore the silence like dog's howl.

Mello was tired, frozen and, most importantly, mortally wounded. It seemed him to was disease carrier, the last human alive after bloody massacre. Excluding those bottomless idiots still believing in a murder system, which was, without the Death Note, worthless as L's schoes. But yet, the thought of murderers looking for him, chasing his tracks, made the new point of view of whole situation of his. Maybe...maybe he won't die, forsaken by the world. Maybe he would still feel hatred for him.

Hatred. He liked this word. It was so humane.

Mello looked like a wreck. Long, straw hair was steeped dirt, sticking to his forehead. The left side of his face was massacred by bomb that went off about half and hour ago to enable him to escape. It succesfully picked up his girly look had presented. Just little traces of humanity held him far from riddiculous thought which was suicide.

Pain. As long as he was in pain it was sure he wasn't wandering above afterlife like a homeless cat.

Suddenly, air thinned out. It wasn't smelling like corpses, burn and mold anymore. It turned out much more fresh. His breath started to calm down. Moreover, he heard increasing echo of steps in delapidated corridor. Who the hell is going here, to my chamber of oblivion?, he thought.

Before he forced himself to react properly, the cold barrel touched his forehead. Blonde tightened his grip on the beads of the rosary. So strong that the rosary, which had served him for many years, broke down. Single black beads fell down, rolling over uneven surfaces.

He sighed in relief, feeling rainy air around. He liked the feeling of rain hit his face, hair, hands, as it could give a wash from his sins.

Azure orbs of Mello's were sparkling slightly of exhaustion. At least he fainted.

End to end, he had luck. He could become a cripple for rest of his life.


End file.
